


Totally worth it

by Amarantex



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Bucky Barnes Feels, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Darcy is the fandom bicycle and I love it, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, Sex Pollen, Sexual Tension, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amarantex/pseuds/Amarantex
Summary: Working in Stark Tower around hunky superheroes was a dream come true for Darcy Lewis, but being Jane Foster’s intern slash unofficially appointed lab assistant doesn’t pay the bills, unfortunately. But when Darcy signed up to be a paid test subject in medical studies, she came home with a bit more than she bargained for.Or…Five times Darcy Lewis and her raging libido dodges Bucky Barnes and one time she doesn’t.





	1. Why is it I cannot just have nice things?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mandraiv (jinglebitch)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mandraiv+%28jinglebitch%29).



> So, this happened. All thanks to Mandraiv, who gave me a prompt for a story where Darcy is related to one of the Avengers. And this is what came out of it. 
> 
> It's basically an excuse to write loads of sexual tension and hilarious situations, like 'Mission Proposal: Date Darcy Lewis is'. But it'll be fairly long chapters, so don't expect _too_ frequent updates. 
> 
> I'll be writing this alongside my other stories, so yeah, I've probably bitten off more than I can chew. But at least this is just a 5+1... _Right?_
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY!

Darcy knew it was a bad idea. Terrible idea, actually. Given how many people in her life had had some sort of experience with medical experiments, and how small the rate of success was, Darcy really should have been more reluctant to let a doctor put a needle in her. 

She really should have.

But she also really should have gotten paid by now, given how she was now unofficially Jane Foster’s lab assistent. But she wasn’t. And student debt doesn’t pay itself. And neither does credit card bills, it seems. And given how SHIELD, the bag of dicks, had threatened her into signing approximately thirty thousand NDA’s after the whole Thor fiasco—leaving her 6 science credits _useless—_ and had left her with nothing but a huge pile of debt and no degree to show for it, well, it was either this or stripping.

And Darcy Lewis didn’t take off clothes for money. She did that for free, thank you very much. 

So given the fact that she already had an actual job, just one that didn’t pay, that left Darcy browsing the web for easy ways to earn cash. And _what do you know_. There it was. An offer to allow herself to be injected with a mild hormonal stimulant _for money._ And not just _money._ Lots of money. $1000 to be precise.

Yes, please.

Which is why Darcy found herself getting up at 5 am, skipping breakfast—because poor people didn’t eat breakfast in New York City—and taking the subway to a shady Harlem practice that might as well have had a sign out front that said ‘We harvest organs’.

The dilapidated front really should have had her running for the hills. And the crack-dealers trying to push some on her. But the lure of $200 up front and $800 in a week when she came in to have her results evaluated was too great an offer to pass up. …And she had paid for the subway to get there. So there was no way she was leaving without a little cash in her pocket.

And maybe Hepatitis B.

But that was a concern for another day when she wasn’t days away from the bailiff knocking on her door.

So Darcy took a deep, soothing breath and went right in.

What she saw inside matched the exterior of the building so thoroughly, that she was almost convinced she had showed up at the wrong address. The walls were all dark panels of wood and moldy, peeling wallpaper that hadn’t seen renovation in at least ten years.

The wooden steps on the staircase leading to the second floor were missing, and the railing was practically in shambles, pieces of wood dangling precariously above the broken up hardwood floor.

It felt like a ghost house. The eerie silence inside was made no better by the fact that it was completely dark in the room. The light from the rising sun outside was the only source of light in the room, and even that had difficulties penetrating the murky dark of the house.

Darcy’s small hope of turning on the lights in the room was thoroughly wrecked, when she noticed the singular smashed light bulb that hung from the ceiling in a thin cord.

This was an odd place for a clinic, Darcy noted to herself. And it _was_ a clinic, alright. Because the room she had just entered was modeled like a waiting room for patients. Only there were no patients in the rickety chairs and a couple of months’ worth of dust was hangning onto every particle in the room, like this hadn’t been used by a doctor in the past 70 years or so.

Darcy was just about ready to turn around and go back home when a door to her right opened, and a bright light spilled out from behind a man in a clean, white lab coat, looking like an angel of mercy here in this hellhole. He entered the room, looking intently at the clipboard in his hands. 

_Damn_ , he was handsome. Maybe, later on, when Darcy was looking back on this exact moment, she would admit to herself that the man’s looks had played some sort of part in why she stayed. Maybe she just couldn’t help but trust this guy with all of his elegantly swept back hair and heavy, well-plucked brows and Henry Cavill-like cheekbones.

… _Maybe_.

In fact, Darcy was so lost in admiring the god-like cheekbones in front of her, that she felt just as surprised as the doctor looked, when he noticed her standing there in the doorway. His majestic eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead and he let the clipboard drop to his side before he sent her a charming smile.

“Ah, you must be Darcy. You’ll have to excuse the mess, I had to relocate at a very short notice, and I have yet to clean up the place. Come inside and take a seat, I’ll be right with you,” the doctor explained, as he held an arm out, gesturing towards the examination room behind him.

“Uhurh,” Darcy muttered, as she stepped towards the brightly lit room, her eyes sneakily trying to take a look of the rest of him without being too obvious.

It seemed she had succeeded, as the sent her a smile before turning around and making his way down the dark hallway as he kept reading whatever was written on the paper on that damned clipboard of his.

She stopped outside the door to look after him, finding herself slightly annoyed that the lab coat covered his butt, but unable to stop herself from watching him leave anyway. So much that she almost walked into the doorway and only managed to stop herself with her boobs before her face hit the wood.

_Wow, my boobs are officially literal airbags,_ Darcy thought to herself before entering the examination room and settling down in one of the two chairs that were parked just to the right of the doctor’s desk. She took off her jacket, throwing it over the other chair and looked around.

At least this room didn’t look like anything out of a horror movie. She took in the white walls, the framed anatomy-poster on the wall over the desk, the professional examination-gear tucked away in neat glass-faced cabinets and felt herself calming down a little bit. This was okay. This was _professional._ She was going to be okay. She wasn’t about to have her organs harvested or something.

So Darcy leaned back in the chair, tapping her foot impatiently while waiting for the doctor to come back. Whatever errand he had had in the more _spooky_ parts of the house took no more than a couple of minutes to complete, as the doctor was back in the room soon after he had left.

He sat down in the office chair by the desk and smiled encouragingly at her.

“Alright, Miss Lewis, let me explain the procedure to you.”

. . . . .

When Darcy walked out of the clinic twenty minutes later, it was with $200 in her wallet, an ouchie on her arm and a lollipop in her hand.

_Totally worth it._

After the doctor had reentered the room, and tried to explain the procedure to her in the least scientific terms possible, Darcy had allowed her mind to drift a little bit. She had been a bit dazzled, she had to admit. A tiny bit.

But come on! Darcy had a type, and she knew it. Tall, dark and handsome. And what’s a girl gotta do? She couldn’t very well ask out her doctor. So she had settled for staring. While nodding every once in a while to make it seem like she had been listening.

And she really should have been listening. She knew she should have. But the doctor—Oliver Holbrook was his name, _siiiigh—_ he was just so _pretty. Ugh._ In that Bucky Barnes crossed with Henry Cavill sort of way. Though he was more Cavill than Barnes. Which was probably a good thing. She didn’t need to feed her crush on that man anymore than necessary. Granted, she had never officially met him, but she had caught glimpses of him around Avengers Tower and _boy_ was he swoon-worthy. And it was with him circulating in her mind that Darcy took the subway back to the Tower.

The trip back was cramped, as it often was in the New York subway during the morning rush-hour. She had luckily managed to catch a seat, pressed in between an old lady and a very sweaty man and there, she fiddled mindlessly with the folder the doctor had made for her with information about the injection, as she daydreamed about Bucky Barnes.

Maybe she would see him today. Maybe he would strut by Jane’s when he looked for Steve? Maybe she would catch his attention today? Maaaaaybe Jane would be out of the lab and he’d ravish her up the wall and then they’d—ooookay, maybe that was a bit much to be thinking about in the subway.

…Though she wouldn’t exactly say _no_ to a good ravishing. And especially not if it was Bucky Barnes doing the ravishing.

Darcy’s stop came sooner than anticipated, as she had been preoccupied by unusually dirty thoughts about a certain super soldier. She only noticed when the doors were just about to close, and in her hurry to get out of her seat, she almost knocked the old lady beside her onto the floor. She barely managed to make it out of the train before the doors closed behind her. With a sigh, Darcy tugged the folder into the side of her bra for safe-keeping as she stepped forward, and started maneuvering the immensely populated area of the subway.

From there it was a short walk to the Tower. She passed straight through security in the reception-area, hurrying into the elevator as she checked her watch. She had to be at work in ten minutes. Not that Jane noticed whether she showed up now or in three hours, but she had to set boundaries for herself, dammit, or else Darcy would succumb to the inherit laziness that came with what was _technically_ unemployment.

Okay, so she _was_ technically a lab assistant. But if you don’t make any money, well, you’re as good as unemployed. And she really needed to start earning some money so she didn’t have tolive off of her meagre savings and sneak out Tupperware containers filled with whatever she could nab in Jane’s fridge in the lab.

She suspected JARVIS knew of her situation and had it refilled twice a week with all of her favorites so she wouldn’t struggle so much with paying for her own damn groceries. 

Life as a lab assistant was hard. And filled with long bouts of various limbs being numb after paid medical experiments… But that was neither here nor there.

Though Darcy still felt like she got the long end of the stick with this deal. $200 up front and $800 in a week. And no numb limbs so far!

…But speaking of the long end of the stick, she had a feeling she would be seeing Bucky Barnes today. And she certainly wouldn’t mind getting the long end of _his_ stic-okay, this was getting a bit out of hand.

Darcy drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was just the hormone-injection speaking, she repeated to herself over and over until she reached the floor of Jane’s lab and she stepped out, ready for a new day of tedious work.

Jane was already there—surprise, surprise—so Darcy settled down, dug herself into the pile of notes Jane had left her and started transcribing. She only stopped for a short bathroom-break and a bottle of water until it was past 1 PM and her stomach had started making the rumblies that only pizza would satisfy. So she took a break and asked Jane what she wanted on her pizza so she could order them on the company card—SCORE!—but as always, Jane just waved her off, leaving her to get her usual order for her.

With a shrug Darcy exited the lab and made her way to the elevator in order to interrupt the other two manic scientists and lure them away from their work with the promise of food. Bruce usually appreciated whenever she included him when she ordered fast food, as he so rarely actually took the time out of his science-schedule to order in. Or eat in general. Maybe she would extend that service to Tony, given how he and Bruce were currently collaborating on some sort of project. Darcy nodded sagely to herself; yes, that would definitely be a nice gesture. Especially since he was the one paying for the pizza.

So instead of making her way to Bruce’s lab, Darcy stepped out of the elevator a floor up from  Bruce’s lab, and made her way into Tony-territory, where Bruce was frequently seen. As she approached the area, she should have known it would be empty; while still brightly lit, it was severely lacking in loud AC/DC-esque music, and if there was anything that helped Stark think clearly, it was some good, solid rock ’n’ roll. He rarely seemed to be without it, from what she had heard.

Not that Darcy would know. She had never been officially introduced to the man.

But maybe this was the time, Darcy thought to herself as she stopped in the doorway, wanting to make sure that Stark wasn’t hiding somewhere in his lab or was napping on his lab desk. But she was surprised to catch sight of someone _else_ in Tony’s lab that wasn’t neither Tony nor Bruce.

Instead it was the man she had been daydreaming about half of the morning… Bucky Barnes.

He hadn’t noticed her yet—well, he probably had, given his superior super solider-alertness and all, but was electing to ignore her—completely engrossed with twisting his metal arm in circles and watching the movement of the plates rippling to readjust.

At the sight of him, Darcy felt… a bit… off… There was a warmth creeping up on her, starting from the tip of her toes and spreading through her blood, inching upwards through her legs, her thighs, stomach, shoulder, spine, her _head_ , and worst of all, her crotch. There, in a cesspool of lust and damp, sticky heat, the warmth settled, leaving her dizzy with want. Her nipples pebbled into tight buds, and her pussy felt _drenched_ at just the mere sight of him.

It was an absolutely intoxicating feeling.

She found herself needing to lean against the doorway at the overwhelming sensation that flooded her body. Biting her lip, she took in the way Bucky’s arms moved, the way his muscled, strong body was covered in all black. She took in the way his thick thighs stretched pleasantly against the fabric of his pants, how the plates of his metal arm shifted to recalibrate, how his long hair brushed against his cut, stubbly jaw. He was a fucking work of art if she had ever seen one.

To hell with the doctor with the Henry Cavill cheekbones!

It took no more than a few seconds of her admiring gaze before Bucky’s eyes caught hers, as he finally chose to acknowledge the fact that she was standing there in the doorway, making eyes at him. He frowned at her, trying to figure out if the look on her face—which was _definitely_ very appreciating—was reserved for him.

Darcy ignored his frown, just wanting his body on hers and- _wait,_ was he getting _closer_? Darcy wondered, not realizing that she was moving towards him, drawn to him like Mjölnir is drawn to a war-ridden Thor. Her legs moved at their own volition, leaving her no choice but to follow, the small part of her brain registering the fact that this was _weird_ shoved completely to the back of her mind.

“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly, her pupils blown wide and her plump lips wet from the tip of her tongue dancing around the seam of her mouth.

“Hello,” Bucky greeted, almost questioningly, looking between Darcy and the door, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, obviously a little bit unsettled by her presence.

She took one step closer and he swiftly took one step back, leaving himself trapped against a table. Darcy licked her lips, giving him an obvious once-over from top to toe, that had Bucky breathing a bit harder.

_What the fuck was—_ and then Darcy _pounced._

Bucky stiffened as the woman took one step forward bringing them hip-to-thigh as she buried one hand in his shirt, dragging his face to hers.

His initial survey of her hadn’t revealed anything to worry about. The woman in his arms didn’t have the built of a spy, nor the movements of one. So he had dismissed her as a cause for worry, expecting her to be looking for Stark, not him. So he was stunned into inaction with her bold approach; this gorgeous woman, kissing the living daylights out of him.

It took him a few seconds to react and only when she reached up to bury one hand in his hair did he grip her hip, distancing himself from her enough to disentangle his lips from hers.

The woman looked up at him through her lashes, looking completely _wrecked_ , and it sent enough of a shock of lust through him for Bucky to tug her back in, reattaching his lip to her red and swollen ones. Darcy moaned in appreciation of his eagerness to participate and drove her tongue mercilessly against his, her body rejoicing at the slick connection.

Bucky took it in a stride, opening up for her and lifting his left hand to her jaw to tilt her head up and to the side slightly. He took over the kiss, tugging her closer, his pelvis against her stomach as their mutual attraction amped up his lust, his cock rising to the occasion. Darcy moaned as she felt his hard length rubbing against her through their clothes, desperately needing more.

It was like a frenzy, and now that she had gotten a taste, she needed to have _all of him._

Bucky hummed in the back of his throat as a small hand found its way under his shirt, tracing his stomach muscles and the V of his hipbones. He allowed his hands to travel down her plentiful figure, beyond her hips and down to her thighs, hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around him. Her body immediately complied, working purely on the instinct that told her that she had to _fuck this man_ and goddammit, she had to _do it now._

Her hand was settled on Bucky’s belt buckle, ready to unleash the cock she would hopefully soon be riding when someone cleared their throat behind her.

The need, the want. It all immediately fizzled out of her like the air out of a balloon. Darcy looked over her shoulder. _Oh no._ It was Tony Stark.

“Whoah, okay, awkward sexual tension. Question, how long have you two known each other? No, wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know, I’m just gonna, y’know, leave you to it,” Tony babbled, looked towards the ceiling—where everyone apparently agreed JARVIS must be living—and paused for a second before continuing: “Record this, I’m out.”

“NO!” Darcy shouted, much to Bucky’s surprise, he whole-body-flinched at her sudden outburst, and had to stop himself from dropping her straight on the floor.

“I mean… Uhm, hi, I’m Lewis. Darcy. Lewis Darcy. No, wait. The other way around. Hi!” she greeted awkwardly, trying to turn around to face the infamous Tony Stark but simultaneously keeping the full-body contact she had going on with Bucky.

Because who would say no to _that?_

Tony raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hi Lewis Darcy, why are you climbing the Winter Soldier like a tree?” he asked bluntly, leaning against the doorway to observe the scene in front of him.

Darcy pretended to consider the question for a second.

“Y’know, I’d rather not say. Hey! You wanna get pizza?” she asked excitedly, hoping to divert the attention from this, quite frankly, odd as fuck occurrence.

“Pizza?” Tony asked, his voice skeptical like, _did she really just ask him that?_ and _yes, she probably did,_ all followed by the _why the fuck is she asking me out for pizza?_

Psh. Like it’s not normal to ask people out for pizza that you’ve only met once and that was when they saw you dry-humping their colleague. Wuss.

“Pizza,” Darcy repeated cheerfully in an attempt to be up-beat that failed epically as the silence stretched awkwardly between the three of them.

When twenty seconds had passed, it might as well have been a fucking year for all Darcy knew. It was that terrible. And it seemed she wasn’t the only one suffering.

Clearing his throat, Bucky readjusted her, and Darcy found herself brushing against something very _hard_ and _hellloo,_ she should _probably_ start considering sliding down the fine specimen of _man_ underneath her, in case whatever the fuck _that_ was came back.

What had the doctor said about this again?

_May experience heightened libido—_ well if that wasn’t the biggest fucking understatement of the universe, she didn’t know _what_ was— _but it blah blah blah, something about being related, something something something, tempers heightened libido, avoid inbreeding,_

_HARH!_

_…Wait, what?_

She should really start listening when medical personel were talking to her. But didn’t he give her a note or something explaining this…? Wait, _yes_ , he did!

Darcy loosened her grip on Bucky and dug into the pocket of her jacket. Where was it? Where did she put the note from that fucking quack? She could have _sworn_ she had it soooomewhere… AH HA!

The two men watched her wary looks on their faces as Darcy started groping herself only to pull out a piece of paper from between the side of her bra and start reading. Still attached to Bucky, mind you.

_‘The patient may experience heightened libido, which reacts whenever a suitable mating-match is near. The libido can only be tempered by sexual relations or if the patient is nearby members of blood-relation. The body of the patient reacts to the body of any person of familial relations and tempers the libido in order to avoid incest and inbreeding resulting in birth defects in potential offspring.’_

Darcy paused.

_INBREEDING? I-N-B-R-E-E-D-I-N-G? What the fuck? The fuck had she signed up for? No fucking wonder he wanted to pay her $1000, the fucking lunatic doctor._

Inbreeding. Incest. Mating-match. _Jesus_.

But something was tickling at her brain. A small detail in their current situation that was passing right over her head. What could that b-Oh. _Ohhh._ Her libido had only calmed down when Tony had entered the room. Did that mean…?

_NO. Nooooooooo. FUCK._ Fuck.

Her years living alone with her mother made sense. Tony Stark was her biological father. And what a fucking way to find out.

…Well. He was _definitely_ buying them pizza then.

“So, pizza?” Darcy asked again, trying to keep her cool as she loosened her grip on Bucky to start sliding down.

When her feet finally met the ground, she turned away from who was apparently her suitable mating-match and faced a still miffed Tony Stark— _Dad_ —who looked from Bucky to Darcy, back to Bucky and then back to Darcy before snorting in disbelief and turning to exit the room.

“Sure, kid, whatever you want,” he scoffed, waving a hand over his shoulder.

Darcy shot Bucky one last look before she hurried after Tony, terrified of being left alone with Bucky Barnes for more than a few seconds in case she might get her _groove_ back on as soon as Tony had left.

“I want a pepperoni-pineapple pizza!” Darcy shouted after him.

Tony snorted.

“Okay, whatever you want, except for _that._ ”

Darcy pouted.

“You’re cruel and mean and I don’t like you.”

“And _I’m_ the cruel and mean person who’s paying, so I get to decide that you’re _not_ having pineapple on a pepperoni-pizza, you monster,” Stark shot back.

As the sounds of the two bickering brunettes faded into nothing, Bucky was left standing in the room, wondering what _the fuck_ had just happened. And how he was going to get back to his room without parading around he massive hard-on he was sporting.

With a sigh he covered his face with his right hand.

_Why is it I cannot just have nice things?_


	2. Tiny towels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky wears the tiniest of towels and Darcy is suitably impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but life/commitments keeps punching me in the face, repeatedly, meaning I don't write as much as I want to. This chapter has been pretty much ready for publishing for two weeks and I haven't managed to do anything about it. FOR SHAME. 
> 
> Anyway, I haven't forgotten you guys, and I'm planning on starting back up on writing every day, so I can keep you guys fed, happy and in no lack of crack. 
> 
> So ENJOY!

Pizza with Tony Stark was a surprisingly casual affair. They had found the nearest Papa John’s and Darcy had gotten her way, as she got to devour an entire pepperoni-pineapple pizza. Yum. 

Naturally, Tony had been looking at her with disdain the entire time, but getting to annoy her dad— _chill out Darcy, he could be your long lost uncle or something_ —along with getting her favorite pizza, well, it was just the cherry on top. Or perhaps she should say that it was just the _pineapple_ on top… He he… Okay, maybe not…

…Anyway. Any chance she had to poke fun at Tony Stark—and distract herself from whatever hormonal shit-show was happening in her body—well, it was all worth it. 

Now she just had to find a way to dodge Bucky Barnes forever and then all would be golden. 

. . . . . 

Bucky released a deep, breathy moan as he released over his hand. The cold water rushing over him was a relief, cooling all of his senses and leaving him loose-limbed and relaxed as the water swept away the evidence of his cum.

This was the fourth time he had gotten off within the past hour and _still_ he was rock hard. 

_What the hell was going on?_

Ever since that woman—Lewis Darcy or Darcy Lewis or whatever—had pounced on him, he hadn’t been able to calm his dick _the fuck_ down. Just the mere smell of her on his skin—like warm cinnamon toast and vanilla—was doing things to him he didn’t know how to process. 

He had never felt like this before. Like he just wanted to track her down and _bury_ himself in her. It was unhealthy, he was certain, to feel this obsessed with a woman he had just met. And especially since she had featured in all of the deeply inappropriate fantasies that had been running through his mind for the past hour and a half while he had been jerking himself to completion. _Four fucking times._

He was all for super-soldier stamina, but this was ridiculous. She wasn’t even _there._ He hadn’t even seen her _naked._

_What was wrong with him?_

Bucky cursed to himself as an image of the woman in question popped into his mind, leaving him increasingly worked up and ready for more. 

Aaaand there it went again. Bucky sighed, taking his sensitive, hardening length in hand, yet again, knowing that he was _definitely_ going to hell for this. If HYDRA hadn’t made sure of that already.

And then he got to work.

. . . . . 

When Darcy got back to the Tower, something was different. She couldn’t really put a finger on _what_ , but something felt distinctively different as she stepped back into the reception with Tony.

Maybe it was the way she was feeling a bit hot under the collar—she suspected it was the walk back to the Tower, it _was_ a bit warm outside—or how everything smelled a bit _off._

It was a weird sensation. Even Jack the receptionist—with whom she frequently flirted—smelled terrible to her. Like he hadn’t showered in a week. And nobody else but her seemed to be able to smell it. Or they just politely ignored it. That was probably it. _Ugh,_ what a gross guy. Definitely not giving him a ticket for the all-you-can-eat-pussy-buffet. 

Luckily the iffy smell was immediately forgotten when she was standing in the elevator with Tony and a whiff of something delicious passed her nostrils. Something warm and a bit spicy. She could almost taste it at the tip of her tongue. So she followed it. Left Tony standing in the elevator, confused, as she told JARVIS to _STOP THE ELEVATOR IMMEDIATELY_ when she delicious scent crescendoed and peaked right on one of the residential floors. 

The doors were closed behind her before Tony could get a word in and left her scenting her way towards that spicy goodness that had her warming up beneath her clothes and her breath becoming more and more shallow.

Darcy trailed the hallway, groaning in frustration as she went too far and the smell was starting to get more and more faint the further she walked. Huffing, she looked around. There was nothing _here_. So what was smelling _so so so good?_  

She eyed the doors on either side of the hallway, debating what was the proper course of action from here. 

Maybe she could just… go in and check? _No, that’s breaking and entering._ It’s not if I get JARVIS to unlock the door for me. _I should just leave, this is weird._ NO. Go! 

Her inner dialogue immediately ended when the smell intensified for a couple of seconds to mouthwatering levels and she was able to identify which door she should be attempting to knock down if she wanted to find out where that _smell_ was coming from.

. . . . .

Five orgasms in a row. Now, he was a super soldier, but that had to be some kind of record, even for his standards. 

He was finally feeling some sense of _relief_ after his encounter with that _woman_ a bit over an hour ago. Fuckin’ _finally_. 

He leaned his head back against the tiles of the shower, allowing the water to wash over him as he contemplated getting out. His legs were getting a bit wobbly from the intensity of coming five times in a row, and he was getting a little pruney from standing so long in the shower.

He could _definitely_ use a nap right now. Or a sandwich. Or a cigarette, for that matter. With a groan, Bucky quickly washed himself off, making sure there were no lingering traces of-well… _ahem_ , before dragging himself out of the shower and dabbing himself dry with the nearest towel.

He had barely managed to throw the towel around his waist when he heard a knock on his front door. Bucky’s brows furrowed. He very rarely got visitors. He wasn’t a visitors kind of guy. It was probably just Steve. Again. That nagging old grandpa. 

He had yet to be able to let it _go_ that Bucky was reluctant to join the Avengers team. And if Bucky knew him, he was back with another _rousing_ speech about Justice and Freedom and other capital-lettered buzzwords that would just make him feel guilty. 

Sometimes he wished Steve would just let things _go._

So it was with a sigh that Bucky stalked through his apartment to open the door and just get Steve’s daily guilt-trip over with. 

“What do you want?” he asked, just as he had thrown the door open.

And then promptly snapped his jaws shut. 

It wasn’t Steve who had been bangning on his door. Oh it _certainly_ wasn’t Steve. No, this was the… that… _Vixen_ from Stark’s lab that had jumped him. The _Vixen_ who had shot out of there like a bat out of hell at the mere mention of pizza. Now, he knew he had a few issues to sort out (okay, more like a metric fuck-ton) but a fella’s ego gotta crack just a little bit at the surface if pizza sounded more appealing than a good round in the sack. 

It would have to be really good pizza. Which he was _choosing_ to believe it was. 

But now it seemed that the Vixen was back from pizza, and unless he was misreading the look on her face—he wasn’t the last time—she was back for more. 

In fact, she was practically trembling, her breath quick and labored, as she took him in as she bit her lower lip absentmindedly, while her eyes traced his lower abs. 

It was then he remembered that he was almost naked. Wearing the tiniest towel known to man.

Well, _fuck_. 

It seemed the woman in the hallway shared that sentiment, as she stepped one step closer to him, her leering eyes leaving a warm sensation rising in his chest and up his neck. 

Was he… Was he _blushing?_

Bucky swallowed dryly, feeling a little bit overwhelmed as he was hit by her scent like a freight train. His enhanced sense of smell left him positively woozy as she stepped closer, her perfume of vanilla-bean permeated his nose, sending shocks of desire straight to his cock. How he managed to get aroused by the scent of _vanilla_ well, that was a question he would be asking himself later on when reflecting on this exact moment. Because _oh,_ there would be a lot of _reflecting_ on this.

Because she- _oh god,_ she smelled _so good._ Like stepping into a bakery on an early morning, the hot oven-steam emanating from the kitchen, wafting the smell of fresh pastries through the air. 

And despite _knowing_ he should probably get the fuck away from whatever voodoo was happening around here, his body took over and he stepped closer, only inches away from her now. His eyes closed on their own accord and he took a deep, long breath right there, in the crook of her neck.

He felt himself hardening—again—at an alarming pace. In the back of his mind he _knew_ there was something off about this; that there was something not quite _natural_ about this situation, but the rest of his brain—and his dick for that matter—decided to ignore him quite spectacularly, as he dug his nose further into the skin on her neck. 

She moaned lowly, more of a hum, really, coming right from the back of her throat. The sound gave him butterflies. _Butterflies._ He hadn’t had butterflies since the 40s. So he responded in kind, letting out a deep growly purr. 

The reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes snapped up to his, and he felt her hand brush against his erection that was tenting the positively _tiny_ towel he was wearing, and he bit his lip to hold back the swears that were sitting right on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out.

Her breath caught in her throat, the feel of him—behind that damned towel of his—making her _want_ so so so so _so_ badly that all rational thought had to take a backseat to the demands her body was making. And oh what sweet demands they were. She just wanted to—

“Miss Lewis?” a voice called out. 

—Bucky snapped out of it immediately, stopping the hand caressing him with his metal one, much to the frustration of Darcy, who felt the lack of intimate contact right at the center of her. She swore she felt it so deeply it was her fucking _soul_ screaming out for him. ‘ _I need your fucking dick, dude’,_ it would say if it could speak. Or maybe something more poetic. Okay, probably even less poetic. 

He barely registered as Darcy keened loudly in annoyance as his eyes sharply scanned the hallway and his mind ran through the list of possible intruders. Then voice repeated itself. Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. JARVIS.

(He should probably be worried that he had been too horny to pay any actual attention to who was talking to them, but at the moment he was too busy being relieved he hadn’t been spotted in a compromising situation by someone like the Hawk or maybe Natalia. Or even worse; Steve.)

The woman in front of him wasn’t as quick to snap out of the haze as he had been as she continued trying to rub up against his very prominent hard-on. So he held her at an arms distance, hoping it would calm her down just a tiny bit so he could escape from _whatever the fuck this was._

Because with how all of the rubbing and smelling and _ugnh_ were stirring _things_ within him, he wasn’t really up to tempting fate by staying to this close to her. Because if he did, he would be balls deep in her within seven seconds flat. He was almost thankful when JARVIS gave him an out.

“I believe Sir is heading your way. He is most displeased you ‘left him hanging’ in the elevator, as he says,” JARVIS noted, addressing Bucky as much as Darcy given her _ahem, confused_ state of mind. Because she had to be confused to want to jump him like she was trying to. She had to be absolutely out of her mind, he decided.

A few seconds later the door to the elevator down the hall opened up, and it finally seemed like whatever this _haze_ was, it faded from her eyes. She blinked. 

“Shit,” Darcy breathed, looking around her like she didn’t know how she had gotten there. 

And maybe she didn’t. Bucky felt a pang of sadness in his chest at that thought. Maybe he _had_ been hoping she wanted him. It was a nice feeling. And especially from someone as lovely as the woman in front of him. 

When her confused gaze reached him—and subsequently the massive, badly concealed boner he was rocking—she _eeep’ed_ and turned around. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to roll into a ball on the floor and fucking _cry._ This was obviously not her own doing, and he had almost forced himself onto her. 

_God._

For a second she seemed completely flabbergasted, just standing there, contemplating her fate and why the powers that be seemed to hate her, she finally managed to get her mouth working again. 

“Right, I’ll just… I’ll just… uhm, good work on, uh, **that** , _wow._ Uhm, so bye,” she muttered, waving a hand awkwardly over her shoulder.

If Bucky hadn’t been so disturbed by what the fuck was happening to him, he would have been slightly flattered. And amused. But as it was, he had a feeling that he would be rubbing himself _raw_ before he got the release he was looking for. Unless that Miss Lewis was part of the equation. 

In the other end of the hallway, Tony Stark observed the situation with his eyebrows hitting his hairline. And for once, he wasn’t saying anything. He was just… staring. Mouth slightly open as he ventilated his brain, trying to figure out whether he should stay or go.

Bucky almost wished he would just get it over with and fucking _say_ something. At this point, _anything_ was better than this.

He watched Darcy intently as she tumbled sideways awkwardly with her back to him, almost falling over her own legs as she refused to look elsewhere than the ceiling to avoid looking at him as she stepped towards the elevator where Tony was now squinting at the situation, trying to figure out what the _fuck_ was going on. 

_You and me both, man. You and me both._

Darcy swore to herself as she entered the elevator with Tony, feeling his scent calming her down and washing the last of the overwhelming lust out of her system. 

So much for avoiding Bucky Barnes forever. She would be seeing Barnes’ dick in her inner eye for months to come if she knew her brain like she thought she did. And god, what a magnificent dick that was. Wow, indeed. 

“Wow? What does that mean? _Wow, Mr. Roboto packs a super-package_ or _Wow, I thought Tony supplied bigger towels than that?”_ Tony snarked as the elevator doors closed—and _oops, did she say that out loud?—_ and she couldn’t escape from this conversation. 

Because of _course_ they were going to have this conversation. As if her day hadn’t been fucked up enough already. She was now going to have to tell her _supposed mystery dad_ about wanting to bone Bucky Barnes. And that was just a conversation she could do with postponing until _never._

“I am not talking to you about this,” she answered calmly, looking straight forward to avoid meeting his leering gaze. 

“Well someone should. JARVIS,” Tony called, hoping to gain a bit of insight into the situation.

Darcy could feel a headache building right between her brows. _Ugh._ This was so embarrassing. Could he not just _leave it the fuck alone_ and leave her to wallow in her misery until this _thing_ went away on its own. She just had to avoid Bucky Barnes for the next week or so, until this thing blew over and the hormones stopped affecting her.

Because no _way_ was she going back to that quack of a doctor. Though she was sorely tempted to go back purely for the money, but she had absolutely _no_ desire to leave this tower in case she had more than one ‘perfect mating match’ or whatever the fuck the so called ‘doctor’ had called it.

So there was really no use telling Tony about it. It would be over soon enough and then she could go back to pining after Barnes at a healthy distance. And it seemed that JARVIS was—for once—on her side.

“I believe my harddrive has had a momentary lapse, sir,” the AI replied calmly, much to Darcy’s surprise. And amusement. 

“Momentary la-,” Tony started, looking a bit red in the face as he cut himself off. “Access your Cloud-service then,” he continued.

Darcy had to bit her lip to stop herself from giggling. 

“I am afraid the Cloud is unaccessible at this given time,” JARVIS answered in that _butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth because I am an AI and I don’t have a mouth_ tone of voice. 

Tony looked absolutely done with his own creation. 

“ _Unaccessible_ like you _will_ be when I _actually_ disable your harddrive?”.

JARVIS paused, seemingly thinking over his options. 

“I am afraid I am needed elsewhere, Sir,” he noted calmly, completely opting out of the conversation. 

 _Man, I wish I was an AI so I could do that,_ Darcy thought to herself. 

“You can’t be needed elsewhere, you’re _my AI_ ,” Tony grouched, shaking his fist at the ceiling of the elevator like the soon-to-be elderly person he was.

The soon-to-be-elderly person who might or might not be her dad. _Oh god no. Don’t think about that, just don’t._

JARVIS didn’t answer. Instead the speakers of the elevator immediately started playing the busy signal, indicating that the AI was in another call. _That sassy computer._

Darcy had to stop herself from laughing out loud because _GO JARVIS!_

It seemed Darcy was the only one who was amused, because Tony’s left eye started twitching, not used to not getting his way. 

“I swear to god, I will disable you and put in FRIDAY,” he spoke through gritted teeth. 

“That would be no fun, Sir,” the British voice replied, sounding delightfully amused.

Tony rolled his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest.

“…I hate it when you’re right,” he muttered.

JARVIS—smartly—decided that not replying was the best course of action. But that left Darcy and Tony standing awkwardly in the elevator as Tony grumbled about AI’s going rogue and something vague about Skynet.

“…Does this mean we’re not talking about it?” Darcy asked, cautiously, and she could immediately tell that she had made a mistake bringing up _The_ _Situation. Why the FUCK did she decide to bring up The Situation?_

_Abort mission, abort mission._

“Oh, we’re _talking_ about it.” 

“…Crap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, five times, huh?


	3. Pheromones 101: A Guide To Your Eager Uterus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy wants to ride the Howling Commando Express all the way to Texas and back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I miraculously didn't break my computer. Turns out it was a common mistake built into this edition of the computer, and it was easily fixable. MEANING: I didn't lose all of my fics! YAY! 
> 
> This was almost done already so I just put the finishing touches on it, and voila! First chapter in 4 months! God. I promise, I am working on Mission Proposal. This was just almost finished already, so no reason putting it off.
> 
> I have no excuses. I'm just enjoying life a lot right now so I forget to write. I just got asked to be editor in chief on the big magazine where I have my internship (because my supervisor and chief editor is on sick leave with stress), I'm working out and losing a lot of weight - so much in fact that Sebastian Stan's buddy and trainer, Don Saladino, featured my weight loss before/after pic on his Instagram ([Click if you wanna see it).](https://www.instagram.com/p/BVCZUrNlfla/?taken-by=donsaladino)
> 
> And other than that I'm the new singer in a band, working with my BFF to create a profitable blog for her _and_ working freelance for a jewelry company to boost their social media. Oh, and I'm auditioning for a musical next month. Life is fun. But it doesn't leave much time for anything else. I'm trying though.
> 
> And your comments inspire me and remind me you're there and that I need to write for you, so keep up the good work, lovelies!

Tony didn’t let it go. In fact he kept on bugging her about it the hour out until she managed to distract him by pulling Jane into a science-y conversation, that struck up a heated discussion and bada-bing-bada-bum — she was off the hook.

Not that that meant she was _completely_ off the hook. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe _that_ , and Tony was too obstinate to let anything go once he had latched onto it. It was only a matter of time before he cornered her again. So Darcy made the most of it. 

She had hidden out in the common room—because _yes,_ during what was technically her working hours, this could be considered hiding out—and tugged her doctor’s note out of her bra, where it had yet again been stored for safe-keeping. 

This wasn’t exactly the sort of thing she wanted getting out anywhere, and there was no safer place than between her DD’s. So when she had settled in on the massive—and massively _comfortable—_ couch, she took a look at he pamphlet.

And then she wondered if she was the stupidest person alive to have agreed to this.

"What on Odin's eyepatch-," Darcy started, rendered completely dumbstruck by the title of the pamphlet. 

Pheromones 101: A Guide To Your Eager Uterus.

Pheromones 101: A Guide To Your Eager Uterus.

Pheromones 101: A Guide To Your Eager Uterus.

It was like she had tunnel vision, as she was completely unable to focus on anything else but that title. Or more specifically, the first word of the title. 

Pheromones. _Fuck no._ She distinctively remembered Dr. Handsome saying hormones. That was one of the only things she remembered he said, but she _did_ remember that . Because that was what she had signed up for. A mild hormonal stimulant.

If he had said pheromones she would have been out of there before he could have finished saying the fucking word. But he didn't. He said _hormones_. And then gave her a pamphlet that said pheromones. What. A fucking. Douchebag.

And what. A fucking _idiot_ she was. How could she not have noticed this before? It was right there. Literally. In big fat letters.

Darcy groaned and leaned back in her chair, fanning herself with the pamphlet. 

There was no way this could get any worse. No fucking way. Until she rolled her opened her eyes again and spotted the illustration beneath the title.

It could apparently get worse. The ability to get worse had just materialized in the pamphlet. Because what an illustration. Like, really. What? 

It was a cartoonishly drawn uterus with ovaries for eyes and a creepy smile gracing the bottom of the so-called face. It made the female reproductive organ look like some sort of smiley-face alien from planet Fuck No. Like some sort of MiB-freak that should just take a ferry out of the world and be done with it.

Who even made illustrations like that? Who was paid to do that sort of shit? Darcy questioned. Not that she was about to get an answer, as the illustrator had obviously been smart enough not to paste his signature all over that shit. Because it had to be a man. No woman worth her salt would disgrace the female body with a drawing like that. No one.

Just looking at the pamphlet made her want to punch herself in the face, just for missing this obvious clue to what sort of madness was going on in the clinic. All of the clues were there. How could she not have seen it? 

Oh, right. Dr. Gorgeous. How can someone so handsome, be involved with something so crazy? 

"Ugh," Darcy groaned.

She needed to lie down. Or have a glass of water. 

. . . . .

Bucky was at his wit’s end. After Darcy had left, he had used up an _entire_ _bottle_ of lube. His dick felt like he had rubbed it with sandpaper and he could barely walk from the amount of orgasms he had had to endure within the past couple of hours. 

Yet _still_ there was a tent in his pants. Previous to this experience, marathon sex had sounded like a _deliciously_ pleasant way to spend his time—given he found the right partner—but now, after having had quite the marathon with his right hand, he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

After all, there’s not much to having a sex marathon _if your dick is numb._

And for all he knew, the only reason he still had a hard-on was for it to act as a literal compass to find Darcy Lewis’s neither regions. It was making him insane.

Especially since he couldn’t get that _smell_ out of his nostrils. It lingered, then intensified sometimes. He just about embarrassed himself when Steve knocked on his door and Bucky opened it just to be hit with a fresh whiff of _Darcy_ from the hallway and he almost came in his pants.

Not his proudest moment.

So he immediately pushed past a very confused Steve and decided to get it over with. He needed to find Darcy. 

. . . . .

Darcy sighed in relief as she slammed the glass down on the hard marble surface. What a relief. Well, it should have been, anyway, but as soon as the temporary satisfaction of cold water against a parched throat was over, the warmth was back, her cheeks flushed and her _nethers_ started tingling. 

Which didn’t serve any other purpose than frustratingly reminding her of the reason _why_ she was currently hiding out in the common. Because dodging Tony Stark was one thing, but avoiding Bucky Barnes was an entirely different kettle of fish. 

Deep down inside, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to avoid him. Because hoo-wee, have you _seen_ the guy? In all honesty, there was no one she'd rather jump than the Captain’s best friend. But she really didn't want to jump him in the state she was in. He didn't deserve that, after what he had been through. 

He deserved being wined and dined and gentle lovemaking in the twilight with complimentary hair-cuddles (and probably some hair-braiding, no definitely some hair-braiding) afterwards. 

And with how _warm_ she was for him right now? Well, she was bound to board the Howling Commando Express and ride cabin D from here to Texas just as soon as she saw him. Not that that didn't sound good, but having regular, consenting sex sounded even better. 

She was just getting increasingly worried, that she would have to be chaperoned by Tony Stark for the duration of any of their future meetings if she didn't want to jump him with no interaction other than "oh yeah, baby, right there" making it past her pheromone-induced haze.

But what's a girl to do? Right now, all she could do was avoid the both of them for a bit of peace of mind. Then, maybe, the answer would reveal itself or, if she was really lucky, the problem would just vanish into thin air, and she could go on pretending she hadn’t seen Bucky Barnes’ dong.

Speaking of Bucky Barnes’ dong. A flash of heat sparked through her abdomen, just as the elevator doors opened behind her. She felt faint, and a delicious scent permeating the air left her panting mindlessly as she supported herself on the counter in front of her. 

. . . . .

Darcy Lewis wasn't all that difficult to find. The AI was being useless as always—Bucky was starting to think Stark had made it that way just for him and specifically to annoy him—but luckily there were only so many places a girl could hide out in the Tower without being bored out of her mind. 

The lab being one, her apartment being the second and the common room being the third. No, it wasn't difficult to find Darcy Lewis. Not at all.

. . . . . 

 _When_ would this torture end? Darcy groaned, gathering her hair in her hand at the nape of her neck and lifting it, trying to wave up a cold breeze to cool her heated skin. 

A growl sounded behind her. 

Darcy stiffened, immediately halting any and all movement like a deer in headlights. 

“Oh no,” she muttered, the warmth creeping up her back, and making her shiver as the heady sensation of goosebumps slid up the back of her neck, as she gained awareness of the person behind her. 

There was no doubt as to who it was; who was suddenly _right there,_ running a finger lightly over her spine, tracing the pebbled skin the entire way up to her neck. He slid his hand forward, gently caressing her throat as she tipped her head back in submission. Bucky took it as permission to cover her skin with his, his hand splayed across her throat. It wasn’t restricting, but a light touch. A possessive one. One that reminded her of who was in control.

Darcy breathed out heavily, warming up at the mere promise of his body against his. Her breath came in quick, short bursts and her cheeks reddened with the effort of not grinding against the body behind her that was mere inches from hers. But she wouldn’t. She would wait. 

But she didn’t have to wait long. 

Bucky was careful as he dragged Darcy back against him, almost lazily, fitting her body tightly against his. She licked her lips as she felt his thick hardness against her, right in the lowest dip of her back. Hard, heavy and intrusively large. _Not enough._ Not _close_ enough. 

Darcy hummed against him, pushing her ass back to gain some friction. She mewled at the feeling: At the tingles that were spreading in her abdomen as pulsing threads, begging for his touch. Her head was bursting with the things he could do to her. Fucking her with hard, long thrusts over the kitchen counter. Burying his tongue between her legs as she forced his head down with a firm hand. Her swallowing down his rock hard _cock_ as he begged for release. 

Darcy almost came then and there at the mere thought of it: Having this powerful man’s pleasure in the palm of her hand. Or her mouth, as it was. It was almost enough for her to sink straight to her knees and make the fantasy reality. And she would have, if he hadn’t reached his other hand—the metal one—down to pluck at one hardened, rosy nipple.

She didn't know when _that_ had happened. When her breasts had tightened and perked, when she had turned into this slick, gooey mess. Was it when his finger slid up her spine? Maybe it was when she felt his hardness against her back. Maybe it was before that, even—back when she could first smell his presence in the room.

But ultimately, it didn't matter. Because he was here now, and he was going to take care of her.

"Lewis," he rumbled deeply into her ear.

Darcy's eyes flew open and her mind cleared of all lust for a second. It was the first time he had uttered her name or any semblance of it. And it completely threw her off.

Because who the hell calls someone by their last name when they're two seconds from getting off from rubbing themselves on your private bits?

And just like that, Darcy got a hold of herself. Not by much, but enough to clear her mind. To turn around and push Bucky away. He let her, obviously, as he could easily have kept her in a literal iron grip. But he was too affected by his current state to be completely aware of her shift in mood. She could see the eagerness in his eyes. The clouded, hazy look that she was certain he had seen mirrored in her own only minutes before. And she almost gave into it again when Bucky stepped close to her and twirled a wayward lock of wavy hair around his index finger. 

The warmth came back—as sudden as it was intense—pulsing in waves, crashing upon her skin as they made contact again. Darcy was half an inch from cracking and giving in. She could hear her own breathy sigh escape her, but instead of leaning into Bucky—instead of giving in to the pheromones—she stepped back, turned around and ran. She was almost afraid he would follow her. And maybe he would have, if Tony hadn't chosen that exact moment to enter the room.

_A blessing in disguise, truly._

So she fled, hoping Tony could keep Bucky occupied long enough for her to find somewhere appropriate to hide out for a while. Let _things_ calm down a bit. 

She found the perfect hide-out spot in a janitor’s closet a couple of floors down from the common area. 

. . . . .

“ _Eager uterus,_ my ass. I’m going to kick that guy in the balls,” Darcy mumbled to herself as she hugged her knees to her chest, hoping Bucky wouldn’t find her in here.

Or Tony for that matter. Or anyone male. Because she was itching to kick a pair of balls and anyone would do right now.

She didn’t really want _anyone_ finding her like this. Like she was this… Horny beast of a woman. Bucky didn’t deserve that. He deserved a proper, good lovin’ from someone who knew him. And who didn’t do stupid-ass things like get hormone-injections from some crack-pot doctor. 

And while that might have been her after a few dates, it _certainly_ wasn’t her while she was high on pheromones and just wanted his eel in her cavern. Okay, gross analogy, but still… pretty apt. 

When the door opened to the cramped, dark space and let in a stream of light, Darcy was kicked into gear and was half a second from getting up and running like her life depended on it. But then she realized that the person standing in front of her was entirely too short to be Bucky Barnes. 

“I hope that's not me you’re talking about or I am never buying you pepperoni-pinapple pizza again.”

Darcy sighed in relief and slumped back against the wall. She never expected there to be a day when she was _relieved_ for Tony Stark to find her. But then again, she didn’t really expect for there ever to be a day when she was trying to hump a World War II vet while pumped up on pheromones. A girl’s gotta readjust her expectations for life. 

“You said that the last time too,” Darcy noted dryly, looking up at him, barely managing to spot the smug grin on his face as it was cast into shadow by the light streaming into the room from behind him.

“Yes, well, people lie and then you die,” Tony noted sarcastically. 

Darcy snorted.

“Poetic.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

A small smile made it’s way onto Darcy’s lips.

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“Good. Now get out of here. You’re acting strange, and I’m beginning to wonder whether it’s from inhaling all of these chlorine fumes,” Tony commented, stepping aside to leave room for her.

Darcy sighed and pushed herself off of the floor.

“I wish,” she muttered to herself as she dusted herself off. 

“What was that?” Tony asked skeptically as she pushed past him.

“Nothing,” Darcy replied innocently, continuing down the hallway in the hopes that Tony wouldn’t follow.

He didn’t. _YAY_. 

“We’re still talking about it,” he called after her.

Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... What do you think is next?


	4. The caviar of my loins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha meddles and Donna Lewis makes an entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> Long time no see! As I mentioned in my most recent update of Mission Proposal: Date Darcy Lewis, I've been on sick leave with severe stress for a while now, so writing fanfiction has not been a priority of any kind the past six months.
> 
> But I'm hoping to remedy that now that I'm starting to feel more like myself again, and my brain can function at semi-normal level.
> 
> So hopefully I'll be able to start updating more regularly than before. No promises though. My mental health comes first!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter - let me know down in the comments below!

Dodging Tony Stark in his own Tower was surprisingly easy when you're friends with the omnipresent AI. And that was what Darcy was doing. Dodging Tony Stark. And Bucky Barnes. 

But what's a girl to do? Right now, all she could do was avoid the both of them for a bit of peace of mind. Then, maybe, the answer would reveal itself.

Which is why she was hiding out in the common area in broad daylight. Again. Some might not think the common area to be the most stellar of hideouts - especially since she had _just_ been there with Bucky Barnes - but they would be wrong. It was the obvious place _not_ to go after having been going at it with Bucky in there, which made it the perfect place to hide. Reverse psychology. You feel me? 

Plus, the Avengers rarely frequented the common areas during daytime, which made it practically desolate until six pm. So she had plenty of time to wallow in her own misery and bake a cake. Not that the two were related in any way; she just really wanted cake. 

. . . . .

“Romanoff Crematorium, you chill ‘em, we grill ‘em, Natasha speaking,” the smooth voice on the other end of the line answered coolly after two rings.

Steve frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear to check the number. Did he have the wrong number?

“Nat?” Steve asked with narrowed eyes, confused.

“Yes?” Natasha answered, sounding very amused.

“Oh, I- I thought this was the wrong number.”

“I thought the whole ‘Natasha’ and ‘Romanoff’-thing gave me away,” she noted dryly. 

“Yes, but-… You know, never mind,” Steve rambled. “I’m calling because I’m worried about Bucky.”

“You’ve got to be more specific than that. You’re always worried, Steve.”

He sighed.

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

Natasha hummed.

“Maybe. Maybe not. What’s up?”

“Right. I don’t know. I just haven’t been able to get in touch with him for the past couple of days and today he completely ignored me when I came to visit,” Steve muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he paced his living room floor. 

Natasha snorted.

“What? You’re upset James didn’t ask you to _prom_?”

“I-… _what?_ ”

“Look, Steve, James has been through a lot. I don’t think there’s anything to be worried about here.”

“Maybe you’re right. It’s just… Tony keeps telling me I must be _‘a very proud dad, now that my son is all grown up’_ , and I can’t figure out why he’d say that,” Steve replied.

Natasha was quiet in the other end for a few very telling seconds. 

“Hmm… I’ll look into it,” she noted and hung up.

. . . . .

Today, of all days, the common room was _not_ the best place to hide out if you wanted to avoid any and all Avengers. Because there were currently three of them in attendance. _Three._

Of all of the days for the spysassins to break their record of time spent day-time mingling with the non-enhanced peasants (e.g. Darcy, Jane, Happy, their regular - and security cleared - pizza guy, Rafael), they chose today. 

Great. Lovely. Spec-fucking-tacular. More witnesses to her stress-baking. And what witnesses they were. 

Clint ‘I Eat Chocolate Chip Cookies By The Metric Shit Ton’ Barton, Natasha ‘Turn Your Back For Three Seconds And All Of Your Cookie Dough Is Gone’ Romanoff and naturally, the absolute _worst_ of the bunch, her thunder-bro, Thor Odinson.

The latter greeted her with a hug as loving as it was bone crushing.

His ability to consume baked goods is pretty much explained by his mere status as quasi god and alien, and therefore, he needs absolutely no explanatory middle name. 

Darcy was starting to wonder whether the three had some sort of super powers in addition to their individual enhancements, that allowed them to know just when Darcy was about to break out the cake batter. 

They most likely did. It’s called being a nosy, good for nothing snoop. A quality that every single one of them posessed. 

Darcy raised an eyebrow at Natasha. With a quirk of her lips, the spy shrugged, signalling that she was, indeed, in possession of that exact quality and that there was no way she was leaving. So it was a grumbling that Darcy assembled the ingredients needed to make her grandma’s good ol’ fashioned chocolate chip cookies.

Thor and Clint, bored with Darcy’s lack of social enthusiasm, had retreated to the nearby sofa-arrangement to argue the merits of long versus short distance weapons, while Natasha stayed, dutifully leaning against the kitchen counter while doing absolutely nothing to help Darcy as she reached towards the highest shelf in the cupboard in front of her.

“Use the good chocolate,” Natasha prompted smugly. 

She wasn’t supposed to know where she kept _the goods._ Darcy huffed. _Nosy._

“The good chocolate, pshh, like I’d _ever…_ Stupid spysassin,” Darcy muttered, pushing away the cheap chocolate chips she only used for people she didn’t like to get to the _goods_ hidden behind _._ Blocks of semi-dark chocolate imported from Belgium. 

Perhaps on second thought she should have gotten the Nestlé Toll House chocolate chips from the shelf. Natasha wasn’t acting like a person deserving of the good stuff. She was being cagey, and Darcy had a sneaking suspicion that Natasha _knew_ something. And when Natasha _knew_ stuff, she would pounce. 

All Darcy had to do, was wait.

She got all the way to chopping the chocolate for the cookie dough before Natasha decided to strike.

“You seem upset,” Natasha observed, raising an eyebrow at the way Darcy forcefully pressed the massive serrated knife through the chocolate.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Darcy noted through clenched teeth, giving the knife another rough push downwards, so it clonked against the chopping board. Hard.

“Oh, I don’t know. Just female intuition, I suppose,” Natasha joked, a single eyebrow raised. 

Oh no. The eyebrow. Darcy knew what that eyebrow meant. Clint had warned her about that eyebrow. That eyebrow meant _business._

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“Oh, I think you do, _solnyshko_ ,” Natasha said.

Natasha didn’t actually say it, but the words _‘and I will find out what you’re hiding’_ were definitely there, hangning awkwardly in the air between them.

Darcy just hummed as she gathered a massive pile of chopped up chocolate between her palms and dumped it into the sticky batter.

_Damned spy-assassins._

. . . . .

Bucky stopped outside the common area as he smelled her. Her scent was hot and heavy in the air and felt like heaven as he breathed it in, and just the thought of seeing her in the kitchen right beyond the door sent little sparks of pleasure through his abdomen. 

He’d found her.

. . . . .

It really was getting hot in here. Darcy thought to herself as she opened the oven to check on the cookies she had thrown together.

Mmmmh, sweet, sweet chocolate chip cookies. 

Putting a finger between the her shirt and her collarbone, she waved the fabric a bit in an attempt to create a small breeze down her cleavage, but to no avail. 

Eh, she should probably stop standing in front of a hot oven. That should do the trick. 

Blowing out the air in her puffed out cheeks, Darcy closed the oven door to leave her cookies to bake and leaned back against the kitchen counter with a ‘phew’.

How was it _so hot_? Did Tony skimp on airconditioning in the Tower? Considering that they lived in a city that turned into the 7th circle of hell whenever summer blew into town, Darcy would probably consider it to be the dumbest things Tony Stark had ever done.

…OK, in the top seven, maybe. But still pretty dumb.

“I need a glass of water," she muttered to herself, wandering towards the couches to throw herself into the plush cushions.

Just as she was handed a bottle of water by Thor, it suddenly felt like the water wasn’t in the bottle in front of her, but was pouring down her spine in a cool stream that left goosebumps in its wake. It tingled, all the way from the top of her head to her tailbone, and migrating even further, the full-body shiver traveling all the way down to the tip of her toes. 

It settled right in the middle of her, pooling comfortably in her abdomen. And that’s when she felt him behind the couch. 

_Bucky,_ some stupidly breathy, and extraordinarily horny version of herself purred in her head. Because there was no doubt about who had just snuck up behind her, in all of his well-endowed spy-assassin glory. 

It felt entirely too much like déjà vu. She should have known. It had felt too damned _hot_ in there.

And even if her body’s reaction didn’t say it all, his warm, spicy scent exposed him, as it wafted up her nostrils and overpowered the smell of the cookies baking in the oven. 

He was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the only sound that even hinted at his presence in the room, was his increasingly heavy breathing. The guy sounded like he had just run a marathon, and that she was the first glass of water he had laid her eyes on. 

Darcy was _this_ close to melting into a big, Darcy-shaped puddle on the floor at his mere presence. Being near him erased every single tangible thought in her mind that didn’t revolve around getting closer to the man behind her.

Somehow every smell faded away, and every sound sucked out of the room, like they were in a vacuum. There might as well have been nobody else in the room but the two of them, and right now, in Darcy’s mind, there wasn’t. 

There was just him and her and a primal hunger that desperately needed to be sated.

. . . . .

Outside of their bubble, nobody moved a muscle. They just watched, confused and fasciated, as Bucky gravitated towards Darcy with a steely determination, that was usually reserved for the battlefield. 

Clint was a split-second from jumping into action, his fists tightening and his jaw clenching. His legs were poised to leap forward and defend Darcy against what might just be a resurfaced Winter Soldier when Natasha’s arm shot out and effectively halted Clint right as he was about to pounce.

She knew the Soldier. She had fought with him, against him. Had been intimately acquainted with him. And this was not the Winter Soldier. This was… something else. Something that she hadn’t seen in James Buchanan Barnes before. And by the looks of a stern-faced Thor and a very tense Clint, they hadn’t either.

So Natasha made an executive decision. They would let this scene unfold. For now, anyway.

. . . . .

Darcy was both completely ready and not at all when Bucky slithered up behind her. He pushed her forward in the sofa to climb over the backrest and settle right behind her on the couch cushion, his legs spread outside of hers. The hard panes of his body felt like paradise, as his hips slid against her from behind, and he snuck his hand around her waist. When he pulled her against him, she eagerly allowed it.

She hummed with pleasure as she felt his hardness pressing against her. With closed eyes she leaned back into him. Her neck rested against his shoulder and she tilted her head back with a small whine in a beg for his attention. 

Bucky complied. His nose slid against the soft strands of her dark hair before he moved moved further south to lightly kiss against the pale skin of her neck. One hand upwards to trace patterns right underneath one breast. Darcy mewled in pleasure to which Bucky growled in response.

Darcy visibly shivered.

Clint and Natasha exchanged looks. 

And that’s when the door to the kitchen opened.

“Whoah, there. You two _again_? Ixnay on the genital Marco Polo, please,” said the one and only Tony Stark.

The reaction came immediately. Instead of the cool trinkling Darcy had felt down her spine earlier, this time, it felt like someone had dropped a bucket of water on her head. Every single thing she had been feeling — no, not _that_ thing, though it was still very much _there,_ pressed snugly against her butt — evaporated. And all of a sudden, Darcy realized where she was, what she was doing, and in front of _who_ she was doing it. Again. 

Ugh.

And of course, Tony, the insufferable dick, continued.

“Dinner and a show? This is kind of kinky. Did anyone bring any dollar bills? I’m all out of anything under a twenty.”

Awkward silence followed.

Oh no. OOooooooh _no_. No, no, NOO. No. 

This was absolutely not happening. Nope. This _had_ to be some sort of dream. Or nightmare, really. Because this _could not_ _be happening. AGAIN._

Darcy refused to believe it.

So she pinched herself. Repeatedly. Aaaaaand nothing.

Fuck! She was still awake. So she did the only thing she could do in this situation.

She disentangled herself from Bucky Barnes’ armes and ran.

. . . . .

Much to Darcy’s luck, the Tower seemed to have an infinite amount of conference rooms. And it didn’t take long to find one, suitably far away for it to be unlikely for the Avengers to come running just yet. 

She suspected there was _conversation_ to be had before Bucky Barnes and the rest of the Avengers gang would be out of the kitchen and looking for her. And thank Thor for that. 

Because she desperately needed some time alone to process _what the fucking fuck_ had just happened. She had been about three minutes away from _fornicating_ with prisoner of war slash war-hero _James Buchanan Barnes_ in front of the _Avengers_ on _Tony Stark’s_ couch _._

If her mom could see her now… Actually, she might be kind of proud. 

Speaking of her mother… There was no way she could continue to ignore the elephant in the room. Or rather, the _Tony Stark_ in the room. Like the Avengers, she too had an awkward conversation to sit through.

She needed to know. 

Her mom picked up on the third call.

“Darcy! The caviar of my loins!”

Darcy groaned and dropped herself down into one of the twenty-something chairs neatly settled around the ridiculously long table set up for meetings. She huffed as her backside collided with a very hard surface. 

The chair was unfairly uncomfortable, considering it probably cost two weeks of her salary. Had she been getting one, that is. Knowing Tony Stark, he had probably ordered extraordinarily uncomfortable chairs just to make sure he never had to be in a meeting for more than ten minutes at a time. After all, that’s the absolute max anyone would ever be able to sit in those chairs without feeling literally butt-hurt. 

_Speaking of…_

“Mom. Please, don’t call me that.”

“Well, what else should I call you? You, who is unable to take even thirty seconds out of your day to call you own, lonely mother,” Donna Lewis accused. 

“You just called me _the caviar of your loins_ , I think my lack of recent phone calls is pretty self-explanatory,” Darcy shot back, already ready to be done with the conversation. 

“Fair enough, spawn of my ovaries,” her mom replied.

Darcy grimaced.

“That is only like, half a percentage better.”

“Eh, I’ll take that,” Donna replied casually, knowing she had won this battle in the verbal Lewis Feud, that had been going steady since Darcy was 8, before softening up a bit.

“So, are you coming home for Christmas this year?” she asked, sounding like she already knew the answer, and that it was going to be the same one, that Darcy had been giving for the past couple of years. 

“Eh, I don’t know. Flying is so expensive these days, and Jane has a lot going on, so, I mean. I don’t know, we’ll see, right?” Darcy answered vaguely, knowing there was _no way in hell_ she was going to be able to afford a plane ticket home. 

Nor did she particularly want to spend Christmas in Beachwood, Ohio, getting drunk on boxed red wine while listening to the same old childhood stories she was trying to ignore had ever happened. 

“Look, I need to ask you something,” she continued, quickly moving on before she got roped into coming back to Ohio.

“Yes?” her mom replied, 

“Right. Uhm… Who’s my dad?”

“Who’s your-? What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a fairly straight forward question. Who ejaculated inside of you twenty-odd years ago?”

“That’s a awfully open question that has a lot of different answers, you’ll have to be more specific than that,” her mom shot back, casually.

Darcy’s face involuntarily rearranged itself into reflecting grade A _disgust._

“ _Ew_ , mom. You know what I mean.”

Darcy’s mom continued. The troll.

“You know, I think I recall it being a lesbian thing.”

“Mom.”

“Virgin birth. It was the buzz of the town back then. A real Mary situation.”

“Don’t make me do this, mom.”

“Artificial insemination. Anonymous donor, naturally. So who knows, really?”

"I'm just going to come right out and say it. Is my dad Tony Stark?"

For the first time in Darcy’s life, she experienced that Donna Lewis didn’t have a witty comeback ready. In fact, it took a whole ten seconds for Darcy’s mother to gather herself. And then she erupted into a stream of psycho-babble of epic proportions, that the Lewis ladies usually only tapped into when sufficiently frazzled. 

"Psh, Tony Stark. How would you ever get such an- Tony Stark, I mean- psh, what a preposterous idea to even-“

It was a dead giveaway. 

“ _Mom,”_ Darcy snapped sharply.

Her mom went quiet in the other end of the line, and when she spoke again, she sounded oddly tired.

"Yeah, okay… It’s Tony Stark."

Darcy leaned forward and dunked her head against the table with a small 'oomph'.

“I fucking knew it,” she muttered through gritted teeth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sooooo... What do you think will happen next?

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think happens next?


End file.
